


Who Would Have Thought

by swinchests



Category: The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Genre: Gen, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-07
Updated: 2012-02-07
Packaged: 2017-12-21 15:59:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/902147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swinchests/pseuds/swinchests
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The boys are worried," Dally said in a matter-of-fact voice. "Two-Bit was going to Texas to hunt for you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who Would Have Thought

**Author's Note:**

> A character study.

It seemed like there should be more to hear. Birds or something… where were the birds? The sky was empty, completely covered by a dreary sheet of gray. All you could hear was the humming of the engine, accompanied by the whir of the cars you were speeding by. Nothing else dared to make a sound, not even Two-Bit. He was a wise ass, but he knew when to keep his trap shut. That's why you liked him, you reckoned.

You wondered why you had let him come along in the first place. You were supposed to be going to blow off a little steam, find a place to think. You'd been in the middle of hot wiring Buck Merrill's car when he'd strolled up and clapped you on the back and laughed, "I thought I smelled grease." And when he asked if he could come, you knew you should have said no. He would have gotten the hint to leave you alone. But for some unknown reason, something in your mind told you to let him, that he wouldn't hurt anything. He knew the score.

You told yourself that if you had said no, you probably would have ended up in Windrixville. But you weren't sure whether that was true.

So now there was nothing left in your world. Nothing but you, Two-Bit, the thrum of the engine and the smell of gasoline. Diesel: you figured Steve would know where it was from if you asked. He knew more about cars than Henry Ford himself. You reckoned the thought should make you smile, but you frowned even harder. That was your problem- you could barely even smile anymore. You looked tough whether you wanted to or not.

In New York, it was everything to look mean. If you didn't, you got beaten by someone who did, sometimes to death. But you weren't there anymore, and there weren't any real gangs in this part of Tulsa— unless you counted Tim Shepard. Even Tim never killed anyone for kicks, though, so really you didn't need to be tough anymore. But you couldn't help it. It was like smoking or fighting, or robbing a drug store- a compulsion. Sometimes, not all the time, but sometimes you just needed it. You craved it.

A chill ran down your spine, and you wondered if Johnny would end up that way.

As if on cue, Two-Bit spoke up. "We should go to Texas."

You sighed tiredly. Texas had of course been a good bluff in front of the cops, but you were kind of surprised that even the boys believed you. They should know you better than that. "We ain't going to Texas, Two-Bit."

"Well why not, Dally? I dunno about you, but I'm sick of Darry's moaning, and especially Soda." He sighed, and his fingers drummed anxiously on the dashboard. You knew he was worried about more than just the Curtis brothers. "It's like he ain't even Sodapop if he's not smiling."

For the first time since you got in the car, you chanced a glance at him. He wasn't looking at you like you though he'd be; he was staring blankly out the window, looking tired and worried. Soda wasn't Soda, and this definitely wasn't Two-Bit. Your hands flexed, gripping the steering wheel so tight that your knuckles turn white, and you found a little release in the pain. You're just a little masochistic like that.

Two-Bit didn't say anything after that, and for a moment, you impulsively considered taking him straight to Windrixville. You were due there soon; as soon as everything was cool, you'd promised Johnny. Not that you had any clue what you were going to do when you got there. You figured on bringing him and Ponyboy some money and food; maybe take them to get a burger or something… and then what? Leave them there? Nice seeing you boys, be back whenever? How long could they stay in that old church, and if they left, where would they go?

You remembered how shaken up Ponyboy had looked that night when they found you at Buck's. Teary eyed, pale, and half dying of pneumonia… Johnny didn't look like that. He kept his cool real well, probably figuring one of them had to keep his head, and you remembered being a little surprised. Maybe he really was trying to be like you. He had to have learned that stance from somebody— shoulders hunched forward, relaxed muscles, fists loosely in his pockets. It was the look of a real JD, and you were the only one he buddied around with. You only knew he was scared because you knew him so well, and you recognized the look of panic hidden in his eyes, the slight tremble of his hands as you shoved that gun at him. He was afraid to even touch it. Johnnycake, a killer? Ha.

You'd started carrying a heater, too. It had been lying on the ground at Shepard's place when you found it, unloaded and polished up nice. It didn't matter to you if it belonged to Tim, or anyone else in his outfit. You were Dallas Winston and you took it because you wanted to. Might as well, you thought. It would be good for a bluff, and if you left the handle sticking out of your pocket just the right way, you could scare the pants off those Socs without even having to look at them. Besides, you had a secret to protect. You knew where wanted killer Johnny Cade was. You had to be tough; not as tough as New York, but enough so that no one would get wise. If anyone found out… you knew the fuzz would be itching to stick that kid in the electric chair. And it would be a cold day in hell when you let that happen.

You weren't taking Two-Bit to Windrixville.

"Man, that Socy girl's pretty gutsy, huh? " Two-Bit tried to distract you, He must have known. Usually nobody said a word to you when you were brooding over something (a "dangerous mood" as you heard Pony call it once), mostly because you would pop 'em a good one if anyone tried. Again— compulsion. You guessed Two-Bit figured you couldn't beat him up while you were driving. For some reason, you didn't really want to. "I mean, I don't even think she had a blade in that little ol' Sting Ray."

You smirked in spite of yourself. That redhead, Cherry whoever, was one fiery broad. You didn't know anyone who'd ever been ballsy enough to throw a coke in your face. That was pretty greasy— for a Soc. And then showing up alone on the East Side… well, even greasers always drove with a buddy. You hated to admit it, but that was pretty tuff. Not that you'd ever say that out loud. "Soc girls don't carry blades, stupid. Are we gonna let her spy for us?"

"Dunno, Dal. Guess it can't hurt nothing." He shrugged indifferently. "Tim's gang is in, right?"

"Yeah."

He hesitated for a couple seconds, thinking. His voice came out sounding nervous. "I heard the Brumly Boys are in on it too."

The Brumly Boys. Now there was a gang. The rest of the boys never hung around them— Darry thought it was a bad idea, and no one bothered arguing with him and his muscles— but Tim had occasionally done business with them. The Brumlys stayed on their turf most of the time, way on the other side of Shepard's territory. But you'd heard the stories and man; they were pretty edgy for this one-horse town. They'd never gotten involved in your gang's turf wars before, though. If they were, would Darry have told you? You weren't sure if he'd ever let Soda fight with the Brumlys, even if they were on the same side. "I ain't heard that, but we'll need all the guys we can get, I guess."

This had to be the longest Two-Bit had stayed serious in his entire life. "Guess we better keep 'em away from Cherry."

The thought of pure, Socy Cherry and the Brumley Boys together was sort of funny. If she thought she hated you… you laughed bitterly, because you had to. Because it made you feel less empty and angry at everything. "Eh, maybe it'll be good for her. That little broad's getting too comfortable around greasers."

He smirked, but it was fake. You knew what he was thinking— it's not like Two-Bit was a very complicated guy— and you tried to come up with a good excuse for him to bite into. "Look, you know Darry'd have my hide if we went to Texas."

"I don't see why," he sighed, frustrated. His right hand ran through his bangs, while his left balled into a fist. "Ain't it better if we find 'em before the cops?"

To be honest, you weren't sure what was better, necessarily. You weren't sure whether you were doing the right thing, and you weren't sure when that had started concerning you. But Dallas Winston was never honest, never tried to be good, and was certainly never afraid. "How about because I don't feel like getting hauled in again, alright?" you snapped. "I'm the one who told the police where the kids were, and if they see me going down there, I'm in deeper shit than before. And I got better things to do. Got it?"

You were damn near yelling, but Two-Bit wasn't surprised. "Alright," he sighed, giving in. His fist was twitching, tense. He looked out the window, and then back to you. "That kid that Johnny…" he trailed off, swallowing once to substitute the words he didn't want to say. You were glad to know other people were just as surprised at all this as you. "Was that the guy with the rings?"

As far as you knew, it was. The description in the paper fit the one Johnny had given the night they jumped him… You had to wonder how much the kid really regretted killing that son of a bitch. He deserved to be dead. But of course, you knew jumpy little Johnnycake would never think that way. Unlike you, he was capable of other emotions, not just anger. He was better than you. Would you have regretted it?

The answer was no, and that made you kind of nervous.

For the hundredth time since you gave Johnny that gun, you wished you would have killed that Soc. It's not like anyone would have been surprised if you did. You were rougher, you were a hood, and could hide from the cops better than a couple of kids. The boys knew that; they probably wouldn't have been half as worried about you. And unlike Johnny, you would have still been able to live with yourself afterwards. Johnny might have wanted to be like you, but you knew he was too soft to ever forgive himself.

But at the same time, you knew you wouldn't have ever killed a Soc. You wouldn't need to. Nobody would try and drown Pony when you were there. He and Johnny could have just run, and you would have taken care of the one with the rings, because death or no death, no Soc slices up Johnny's face and gets away with it. And that would have been the end of it. No big deal. Maybe if you hadn't left the Nightly Double, if you hadn't left them to walk home by their lonesome, that's exactly what would have happened. Because you weren't there, and now Johnny was in big trouble. Bigger than you'd ever been in.

You figured that was what scared you so much.

Man, you needed to quit thinking. You glanced at Two-Bit again, putting on your signature careless smirk. "C'mon, let's go get a drink," you offered. The idea of a smooth beer, and the way it made your mind hazy, tugged welcomingly at your thoughts. It promised you would forget about everything— the rumble, Cherry, and especially Johnny in Windrixville. You accepted the invitation. You were compelled.

A moment passed, and you watched Two-Bit spring back to life. He grinned, and although his eyes were still sort of sad, the haunting gloom melted away from them. "Man, if you're buying," he joked, elbowing you mockingly.

You rolled your eyes. "I never said that." You only hoped that, once you were wasted, you could remember to keep your trap shut. You knew better than to ever say half the things you thought. Because you were Dallas Winston, a hood, and you were never sorry.

Right?


End file.
